Victor felt like he was floating on air without a broom. Somehow in his haze he had managed to get from the bathroom to the Slytherin Seventh Year Boys Dormitory. Victor's nerves were aflame, his heart was still thudding, and his ears ringing (although on closer inspection that seemed to be a unwelcome remnant of Myrtle's shrieks).

Victor all but flopped on his four-poster bed, fingers still twitching from time-to-time, and magic quivering. His core felt jittery. Victor arched off the bed and stretched, eager for his magic to settle in, so he could focus on the bigger, brown-eyed surprise.

"The meeting with Seung Gil went that well, huh?" A familiar, silky voice piped up from the bed opposite to his.

Victor flinched, eyes flying open.

Chris was grinning like a Cheshire cat, on his bed, head popped up with the help of his hand, his reading glasses on, and a thick tomb in his hands.

Victor laughed uncomfortably, he had forgotten about Seung Gil entirely, and said, "Stop reading like that Chris, your eyes will get ruined."

Chris just laughed.

Whatever, Victor wasn't Chris's mother. He bit down on further admonitions with great difficulty.

"So." Chris drew out excitedly, swinging up gracefully, and folded his legs, he leaned forward with a gleam in his eye, "How did it go with Seung Gil?"

Victor leaned back, and considered the questions. Tasting it until it aligned with what he wanted to say. Chris waited patiently, as Victor sorted his thoughts. Victor felt his magic settle further, secure in the knowledge that it would be safe, under Chris's kind gaze, and that security blooming in his chest was what prompted him into spilling his guts for the second time that day, only this time the vomiting was more of the verbal kind (but somehow more vulnerable), as Victor rushed to convey the day's happening in a way that made sense. But seeing as how he himself didn't quite understand his emotions, his retelling might have been less than coherent.

Chris's widened eyes were his only reaction; an apt, albeit understated one at that. Victor felt like if his soul itself manifested right now, it would be nothing but a disembodied set of cartoonishly wide eyes.

"So, wait. Let me get this straight. You didn't seduce Seung Gil." Chris said, voice flat.

Victor nodded.

"And you felt sick right afterwards." Chris said, voice more unimpressed than before.

Victor nodded again, meeker.

"And you met some boy whose name you didn't manage to get and fell in love with him." Chris finished, incredulous and disbelieving.

Victor felt like protesting both emotions, but even by his standards the day seemed bizarre.

Victor, instead of trying to verbalize the emotions twisting and turning in his chest, just brought his hands up, made a face and shrugged.

Chris's right eyelid twitched. Victor, knowing that look keenly, braced himself, bringing his hands up to protect his face.

But, just as Chris prepared his ammunitions, Victor was saved from Chris pelting him with pillows by a knock on the door.

They stopped and looked at each other, and with a silent agreement born of years of friendship decided to put the pillow fight on hold.

Chris removed his glasses, and hid them under the case under his pillow, as Victor straightened and made himself presentable.

But before they could go and open the door, the door swung open, revealing a grinning Mila and annoyed Yuri.

Victor slumped back into his bed, glad to not have to play pretend.

"Honestly Yura, what if Victor or I had been in the middle of the throes of passion when you barged in?" Chris said. But not with a tone that implied that he was particularly upset by the possibility, but more that of anticipation and future plans.

Yuri looked like he wanted to puke, Victor could sympathize (thought for different reasons), and succinctly said, "Ew."

Mila rolled her eyes, and waved her hand, "Whatever, Yura learn some manners, Chris don't corrupt minors. Now onto the interesting bit - Victor, how did it go?"

Victor groaned as Chris explained the whole story.

"Wow." Mila said.

Yuri looked like even he couldn't hide his interest in the story, but that might have been because of the copious amounts of humiliation and throwing up involved on Victor's part.

Chris hummed, and contemplatively asked, "Why do you think you got sick?"

Victor shrugged. He had been wondering the very same thing. He had not been feeling unwell and had not eaten anything that could have given him food poisoning.

Yuri shrugged, "Who cares, probably ate something bad. Tell me about the ghost again!"

But now Mila was also looking intrigued, "So, wait. You said you felt fine until you used your Allure right? Have you gotten sick any other time you used your allure?"

Victor felt embarrassment crawl up his neck, at being caught in his attempt at obfuscation.

"This was the first time I have ever used it. The Allure." He admitted, shame-faced.

"What." Yuri intoned.

Victor suddenly felt the need to defend himself, "I never needed it before! People just…..do what I ask without it just fine!"

"Oh, geez." Yuri said with disgust as Mila and Chris snickered.

"Ok, ok! So maybe you're doing it wrong." Mila suggested, to Victor's outrage, and he fixed her a Look.

"I know, I know" Mila said mischievously, and with exaggerated dramatics, flipped her red hair behind her, and said in a strange voice, "I'm the wizarding world's living legend and best Duelist in all the lands. You should see my medals." And then she winked. Ridiculously.

Victor was confused before he Got It.

" ." He said. He didn't sound like that.

Right?

But his sarcastic faux-laughter was drowned out by Yuri's much louder bark of laughter, and Chris's softer giggles.

"Encore! Encore!" Chris said, patting the back of his hand with the other hand, like he was at the bloody Opera.

Mila bowed.

Victor could feel the conversation slowly getting out of hand.

"So. Wait. Do you still feel weak and sick?" Yuri said, sounding somber, uncharacteristically bringing the conversation back on track.

Victor hesitatingly nodded.

Yuri's eyes steeled. And he strode forward, and started poking Victor with his wand.

"Eh?" Victor said as Yuri started checking his teeth.

Mila smiled softly, "Oh, let him have his peace of mind. Yuri is going to be a Magical Creatures Healer someday, you know."

"Eh?" Victor said, as Yuri played with some bright magiced blue lights over Victor's chest. Victor squinted, was that his heartbeat?

When had that happened? Why did Victor not know about Yuri's desire to become a Magical Creatures Healer?

First the brown eyed boy whose name Victor didn't know, and now this, what else had he missed?

"Oh, hush you. These spells are safe for humans and Veela as well." Yuri gently chided.

Victor's eyes widened, he hadn't even considered that part.

"Say, aren't you a wee bit too young to do this, Yura?" Chris said carefully.

Yuri rolled his eyes, "Please. When have I ever done something halfway, Chris? Baldy here is safe with me."

Victor felt disproportionately reassured.

Finally, Yuri leaned back, a complicated look on his face, and said, "It's Allure Sickness."

"Huh?" The rest of them said.

Yuri looked at them, annoyed, and said matter-of-factly, "Honestly, don't you all read? The Veela books hinted at it, but I didn't think - anyway. All Magic, even natural magic like that of Veelas and dragons, comes at a cost. And Allure is no exception. So, whenever Victor uses it, depending on the intensity and range of it, he too will suffer. He'll get sick, his joints will ache, and his senses will feel hypersensitive. Thought I think some of those symptoms have to do with the Veela Maturity itself."

Victor's eyes widened.

For a second there, Yuri seemed….different, older.

He looked at Chris and Mila, who were looking just as awed.

"Any questions?" Yuri barked, clearly embarrassed by the looks on the other's faces.

They all quickly shook their heads.

Yuri sighed wearily and nodded.

"Judging by the fiasco with Seung Gil, I don't think your Veela is compatible with him anyway. So, I suppose Phichit is next?" Yuri continued.

Victor felt his core unsettle at the thought, and loudly declared, "No! I've already found who I want to be my Consort."

Mila made a soft sound in her throat, "The chocolate boy? Victor I don't think….You don't even know his name…"

Victor could feel stubbornness creep into his heart, "Yes. Him. No one else is right for me. Not Phichit or that other guy."

Yuri who had been viewing the proceeding with a detached interest, like a scientist looking at lab mice, suddenly swung around to look at Victor, and said sounding aghast, "How do you not know Yuuri Katsuki?" in the tones of someone saying, "How do you not know Harry Fucking Potter?"

Victor felt his brow quirk in surprise, he had never seen Yura so positively impassioned about another person. He wanted to know more, so Victor being Victor, he blythely said, "I don't see what's so great about him, that's all."

Yuri looked like he was ready to violate his future Healer's Oaths and have a throwdown with Victor right then, right there.

Victor grinned internally, and looked at the others, only to see similar looks on their faces.

He jerked back, what had he said?

There was a tense silence for a second, before Chris slowly said, with the preciseness of a blade, "You have never met Yuuri Katsuki. I would know if you had. Stop trying to needle Yura, Victor."

Victor blinked at being caught, and cocked his head; just who was this guy? To have so many protectors? Even among Victor's own friends?

He laughed uneasily, "Yes. Yes. You're right. I'm sorry, Yura. Forgive me?" and he pouted up at an annoyed Yuri, but the annoyance was the familiar kind, not the strange one from before.

Yuri huffed.

The tense atmosphere passed.

"So. What do we do now, do we focus on Phichit?" Mila asked.

"No." Victor said firmly.

"Victor…" Chris said sympathetically, "If your chocolate boy is not on the list, then he probably is already….with someone."

Victor's eyes widened. He felt something in his chest collapse. He hadn't considered that. But why hadn't he? The other boy was beautiful and kind and brave, who wouldn't...who wouldn't kill to have him as theirs?

Victor certainly would.

Victor tried to tell himself that he was okay. He had never had anyone before, and he was okay with the status quo continuing. He didn't need anyone. He was Just Fine.

Only.

He did.

He needed someone for the Ball.

Victor's heart broke at the thought of dancing with someone else, someone who didn't carry chocolates in their pockets to give to strangers down on their luck.

His heart shied away from the thought.

But.

Victor closed his eyes, and nodded, "Phichit then. Where's he right now?"

Chris smiled, sympathetic but with pride, "Atta boy."


"When it is in direct conflict with feelings of deep, unconditional love, our Allure will not work, Vitya. Use it wisely."


Phichit Chulanont was objectively adorable, in the way baby seals are adorable.

Pity Victor wasn't interested.

But, Victor thought tiredly, he promised to give this a genuine shot. So, he put on a bright smile and urged his feet to move faster to catch up to the brunette who appeared to be fiddling with a camera.

"Hello." Victor said, careful to keep his voice low, so as to not startle the boy. That camera looked expensive.

Phichit whirled his head up, and looked at Victor in the eye.

And then he just….kept looking, eyes becoming progressively wider by the second.

Victor's smile took on a confused edge as the silence stretched on, surprisingly not uncomfortable despite the other's gaping.

Thoughts stalling, Victor continued bravely, voice still soft so as to not spook the Hufflepuff, "My name is -"

"Victor Nikiforov! What brings you to our neck of the woods?" Phichit boisterously cut in, somehow managing to come off as charming rather than rude.

Victor resisted the urge to gape. Seemed like the boy had gotten over his initial surprise rather quickly. Now it was Victor who felt like he was in danger of being spooked.

"Oh, you know. I was...looking for someone." Victor said, attempting to be coy, sweating profusely under his robes. The words felt empty on his lips, and he was more aware of his discomfort than anything else.

Phichit's eyes gleamed with an unholy light.

"Oh, really?" Phichit all but purred, "Who?"

Victor internally sighed. Seems like he had hit jackpot. Surely someone who sounded this interested in him would be willing to be his Consort?

(Nevermind that Victor was Not Interested (in Phichit at least))

Victor forced a smile and said with the charm he was famous for, "You, of course!"

It was like seeing water turn stagnant in front of your eyes. Phichit's brows slowly furrowed, the corner of his lips turned downward, and his eyes lost some of their luster.

"Me." Phichit said, flatly, eyes dead.

Victor, taken aback at the reponse, stumbled out an affirmative.

"Why." Phichit said, eyes still very much dead and mein suspicious.

(first Seung Gil and now Phichit, what was going on?)

"I just….wanted to know if you would be interested in a dinner date...type...situation." Victor said haltingly, cursing himself for not practicing in front of a mirror.

Phichit's eyes (Somehow?) became even duller, but to his credit, he said with a sympathetic tone, "I'm sorry Victor. You're a great person and all, but I'm more of a free agent. I could never have a relationship. It's just not for me."

Victor felt something in him flicker, and he said, more eagerly than before, "Then let's do casual!"

That would be perfect! He would have a Consort for the Ball, and still be able to wait for his brown eyed boy.

Phichit twitched, and he said, words delicate like china, "I don't… Victor, no offense, but you don't seem like a casual dating kind of guy. I could never do that to Yu- you! I could never do that to you."

And damn, if it wasn't delivered in the kindest tone he had ever heard. Phichit Chulanont had the singular skill to make rejection seem like a gift given to the person being rejected.

"Plus!" Phichit continued, more gaily than before, "I wouldn't want you accidentally falling in love with me, haha."

(Phichit's voice was light, but his eyes were dead as ever)

Victor wanted to leave, tail between his legs, and hide in his bed until the end of forever, but he had promised.

So, Victor reached inward and coaxed his magic out, tendrils of magic wrapping around his voice easier than before, and he extended it towards Phichit.

Phichit looked at him nonplussed.

Quizzical, but unaffected.

Victor however was none of those things.

He had a few minutes max.

"Hey, are you okay? You don't look so good." Phichit said worriedly.

Victor smiled, pained, stomach toiling. He nodded offhandedly, and waving a hand at Phichit, mouth firmly shut, power-walked away.


"Even the walls have ears, Vitya. Just because you can't see or hear someone, doesn't mean someone is not there. Constant Vigilance."


Victor could feel his presence, the quiet strength of it, without the other boy ever having to open his mouth.

Plus, it was just his fortune that the one person he was trying to come off to as suave and good boyfriend-material, saw him like this, hunched over a white ceramic pot and struggling for breath, as sweat dripped down his face.

Victor wanted to loudly sigh, but the fact that he couldn't draw a breath was a bit of a constraint in that way.

The smell of the sick further triggered Victor's Allure-sickness. Because that's what it was; after two episodes of it, both after he had tried to use his Allure? It was definitely the cost of using the Allure.

Damnation, why wasn't he told anything by his mothers?

It was like he was stumbling across the horizon blindfolded, and trusted to find the way.

Victor gagged again.

After what seemed like years, he uncurled, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was still breathing heavily.

Well, at least he could sigh now.

He considered his still rolling stomach; on second thought, better not risk it.

Victor turned around, and saw the brown eyed boy sitting next to the painting of the pervy mermaid, talking to her softly.

And despite his bone-deep tiredness, Victor felt the sudden urge to squeal like a….something that squealed, Victor's brain was too tired for metaphors (or was it a simile? Victor distantly wondered)

Victor waited for the other boy to finish his conversation with the mermaid, content with watching the slow red flush work its way up the boy's cheek, as the mermaid whispered something Victor was very interested in knowing (and replicating the results of).

But, as the boy kept ignoring Victor, the nerve!, while he was standing right there artfully (hopefully?) tousled in a damp white shirt, like one of those heroes in the old books.

Honestly!

Will he have to do everything in this relationship?

(Victor couldn't wait!)

Victor cleared his throat, but gagged as the vibration nearly sent him to the toilet again.

Sexy, Victor sardonically thought as he clutched for his breath again. But the artificially induced nature of it made the nausea trip easier to bear, and it wasn't long before Victor straightened, back twinging at the movement from the previous half-an-hour spent bent awkwardly, ready to try again with the mystery boy.

Only, when he straightened, the boy, apparently having had finished his scintillating conversation with the pervy mermaid, had evidently gotten rinkside tickets to Victor's showdown (throwdown, Victor internally giggled) with the toilet.

Lovely.

Victor smiled, tiredness hitting him like a freight train, and ran a hand through his hair as he stared at those brown eyes, "We have got to stop meeting like this."

The boy smiled slightly, brown eyes warming up further, reminding Victor of shared chocolates and reassuring magic.

Brown eyes.

Huh.

It'll do.

For now.

Victor, seized by a sudden urge to shake that composure, smiled slightly, and with a lilting tone teased the other boy, "So, what was she telling you over there?"

The way the boy's face coloured told Victor that Brown Eyes knew exactly who Victor was talking about, and if the soft stammering was any indication, Victor was not going to get a (coherent) answer anytime soon.

But he didn't have to. Feeling firmly in power again, Victor leaned back, satisfied.

But he can't help pushing a little more, by virtue of who he was, and continued, "Or….should I ask the lady herself?"

The way Brown Eyes's face looked in a state of abject horror was too adorable for words alone. No, it deserved Symphonies and grand paintings! Boy Stunned in Horror by Victor Nikiforov.

Victor felt, rather than heard the giggle slip out.

The boy's mouth dropped open as he heard the sound, "You - You're making fun of me." He accused, soft voice going high with betrayal he probably didn't mean to reveal.

Victor felt his giggles get stronger, "No! No! I'm sorry, my bright-heart, No! I'm just - " and it was really fortunate he couldn't complete the sentence because of his mirth, because despite his prodigious skills in the fine art of bullshitting, he had no real idea how to complete that sentence.

The boy's face grew more outraged, almost comically so. He looked around in a perceived plea for other witnesses to Victor's ridiculous display, as though to seek reassurance for the vision of ludicrousness he was witnessing. But of course, Victor could have been projecting, as he almost doubled over with his giggles, the exhaustion making everything funnier.

Slowly, the boy's face evened out, a small smile touching his pink lips, until lured by Victor's infectious giggles, he too gave in, laughing softly.

The boy smiled with his eyes, Victor thought through his giggles, the corners of the other boy's eyes crinkling charmingly with the force of his smile. It was like looking at a feeding chipmunk. Victor's heart bubbled in his chest at the sight.

Too soon for Victor's tastes, their giggles subsided.

The gaze was back on Victor, like the sea itself, calm with potentially dangerous depths, and it was worried.

"Are you okay?" Brown Eyes asked.

Victor felt his smile freeze on his face, suddenly reminded of his situation and how he had ended up in the bathroom.

He smiled brightly, as if the shine of it could chase away the shadows of doubt in his heart, "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

Brown Eyes seemed unconvinced. He licked his lips nervously, the tip of a pink tongue poking out to wet his lips in contemplation.

"You just - You don't seem….well." he haltingly explained.

Victor maintained the smile despite his soul crying out against the lies, "Just a bit of bad meat, that's all. Nothing to be worried about."

Brown Eyes still looked skeptical, "On two separate days?"

Victor blinked innocently, "Yes. Bad luck I guess."

"Uh-huh." Brown Eyes said flatly, clearly not buying any of it, but willing the illusion to continue, despite the other boy knowing Victor was full of shit, and Brown Eyes knowing that Victor knew that Brown Eyes knew that Victor was full of shit.

It was surprisingly very considerate.

Victor could feel his knees start to shake, core slowly turning to water, the longer he stood there. The magical exhaustion was starting to catch up with him.

Victor smiled, this time more genuinely, and despite his soul pleading otherwise, said, "It was lovely seeing you again. But I'm afraid I have to be going. Maybe I can see you again?"

The other boy quirked a lip, "The next time you eat some bad meat? Sure. I'll be ready."

Feisty.

Shaking his head in amusement, Victor waved a lazy hand and gathering the last of his strength, walked away.

He just barely managed till the door of his dormitory, wherein he then proceeded to collapse on the floor, spent.

But oddly, content.

With bones aching, and eyes hurting, but soul settled, Victor decided, whoever Yuuri Katsuki was, he couldn't possibly hold a candle against Brown Eyes.

No.

Come hell or high water, Victor would have no other.


"The most striking attribute of Veelas, is their freedom. They are like the wind itself, and cannot be tamed, chained or crushed."


Victor dreamt of dancing.

The sun was out, and the grass gleaming with dew.

Victor frowned; this wasn't the Winter Solstice.

But nonetheless, he was dancing. And laughing, as a hand spun him round and round and round, his long hair flying around him, turning his vision into silver and gold.

He was happy, his chest felt like pebbles bouncing on the Great Lake, airy and light.

But to his dismay, the vision was shaking. The silver and gold slipping away as the wisps of consciousness slipped into his head, the pebble-light feelings in his chest slipping away to give way to a heavy drowsiness.

Victor frowned. He wanted the feeling back. He grunted, as pain in his joints made itself known.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up, Victo, comeoncomeoncomeon, it's an emergency, you idiot!" A voice whispered with fevered urgency.

Victor frowned, that didn't sound good. He struggled to get up, ignoring the bone deep pain, and opened his sleepy eyes to a white-faced Yuri, who was bent over Victor, clutching a wand in his hand tightly.

Victor got up.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Victor said, a sudden rage descending over his tired body at the hints of fear in Yuri's green eyes.

The haze of the dream was fading quickly, the longer he looked at the dishevelled Yuri.

Victor was going to seriously damage someone.

"Am I - No. You idiot, I'm not okay. And you won't be either, if you stay here any longer. They are coming." Yuri shot back, the underbelly of his voice quivering. The last time Victor had heard that tone was in the aftermath of the first time he had met Yuri, back when he had first come across Yuri dueling with five second-year Ravenclaws, back in Yuri's first year. He could never forget those green eyes, looking up at Victor defiantly, and with a voice that had quivered much the same way, said I don't need some Slytherin coming in and rescuing me. Get fucked, Asshole.

Victor had been sardonically amused at the tiny ball of fluff, until he had seen the tinier trembling bundles of kittens behind the first year.

(Turns out animal experimentation wasn't just a muggle thing)

And Victor who had been taught to respect Mother Nature from the day he he had first seen a fairy ring….

Suffice it to say those Ravenclaws never so much as looked at another animal with ill-intent again.

And thus, Yuri's famed Hufflepuff loyalty had been won.

Victor felt familiar rage steal across his head, and with a force born of practice he pushed it away from appearing on his face, and silkily said, "What. Happened. Yura."

Yuri's eyes widened at the tone, and he walked away, searching the room, and opening Victor's closet.

After removing Victor's Hooch 2017 broom and some clothes, he strode up to Victor and threw the clothing at him.

"Get ready. They know."


"Make sure no one knows about your Heritage, Vitya. Humans are not kind to those they cannot control. And after Voldemort's war… let's just say, it's not a safe world for us anymore, my Darling"


They ran.

Victor clutching Yuri's waist as Yuri flew them to the Great Lake, feeling adrenaline pump through his body, temporarily making the now-familiar aches disappear. He could feel fear coursing through him; not for himself, but for Yuri, whose tension Victor could taste in the air itself. In his selfishness, he had managed to drag people he cared about into this and put them in danger as well.

Oh Goddess, what had he done?

If anything happened to Yuri or Chris or Mila….

Victor could feel his eyes sharpen, centuries-old rage rise in his chest, primal and raw.

He would burn the world down.

Victor felt his feet touch the grass, as they both got off, Yuri almost shaking with tension, but wand still held steady in his hand. Ready to fight - for Victor - with neither thought of consequence nor self-preservation.

Oh, Yura.

You always have been ready to fight the whole world for a cause. I'm sorry for giving you one.

I'll never forgive myself for this.

Thoughts like blades swiped through Victor's brain, razor sharp and quicksilver.

In the distance he could see people.

They were coming.


"We're not beautiful ornaments to be placed on shelves, admired and then forgotten. We're warriors, first and foremost. Don't forget that. We're the wind itself. And wind is not always a gentle mistress."


Yuri saw them too, if the way he put himself between them and Victor was any indication, wand hand extended.

Yuri turned his head to meet Victor's eyes. He looked grim, but resolute; Victor thought of the echoes in the eyes of the veterans of the Second War, and shivered.

"Go. I'll keep them away. I'm keep them all away. Go!"

Reluctant, angry and loathing at the knowledge that for all his magic he couldn't keep the people he loved safe in his current condition, Victor said firmly, "I'll leave the broom, Yura. No, Listen. I can't fly it in my current state, Please be safe. I'll be fine. Just... get away as soon as you can. Please."

Yuri pursed his lips, nodded, and with a notion of clear dismissal, turned away from Victor.

Victor, heart breaking and full of self-hatred, went.

Placing an obscuring charm on himself, he snuck past the crowd, and went to the only place he had felt safe in anymore.

Only on entering the bathroom, he found a giggling Myrtle, who turned her translucent eyes, at the door opening.

"Surprised you survived long enough. I thought the crowds would have eaten you up by now." She snickered.

And with that Victor had two realizations, one: ghosts could see through charms, and two: Myrtle was why Yuri was in danger. She was the one who had told everyone about him being a Veela.

Filled with molten rage, Victor said softly, "Why."

Myrtle flew suddenly until her translucent face, forever preserved in her younger form, was up against Victor's, and with a voice that simmered with barely leashed bitterness she spoke, "Look at you, coming here. Hoping to see him, huh? Will snakes like you never stop trying to take things from me?"

Victor gritted his teeth, questions still unanswered, "Why are you doing this?"

Myrtle's eyes frosted, "Always playing the victim, aren't you, Victor Nikiforov? Beautiful Victor, Perfect Victor, Kind Victor. Always Victor, Victor, Victor!"

Victor was seized with a sudden whirlpool of hopeless dizziness. Obviously he had done something to anger her. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember what. But one thing was clear, Victor was why Yuri was in danger.

Victor hunched his shoulders, and with eyes cast downward, said "I don't know what you mean Myrtle. I'm sorry for whatever I did to hurt you, Myrtle. I really am."

The defeated posture seemed to amuse and delight her more than anything if the volume she laughed was any indication.

"Nothing?! You come in and use your filthy Veela tricks to make Yuuri fall in love with you, and you say you did nothing?! Typical Veela. But you don't fool me! I have seen temptresses like you before, luring good men away from the people they actually love. I could smell you, you know, the first time you came in. Even the dead know of the Veela."

Bingo.

But despite the success, couldn't help but be more confused than before. Yuuri Katsuki? How did he come into this story?

Victor carefully said, "I don't know any Yuuri Katsuki, Myrtle. You have me confused with someone else."

Myrtle swung back like Victor had threatened to punch her, and hissed, "How dare you say his name in front of me?! First you take him away from me, and now you are here to gloat?!"

Internally, Victor was screaming. Just who was this cursed Yuuri Katsuki who had made Victor's life a living hell? What was so great about Yuuri Katsuki anyway?

But before Victor could speak, he heard footsteps like thunder outside the bathroom.

Victor could only watch as Myrtle's smiled, a chilling grotesque thing consisting almost entirely of bared teeth.

"HE'S HERE. HE'S HERE. VICTOR NIKIFOROV, THE VEELA, IS IN HERE!"

The footsteps got louder.

Victor looked down at himself, only to see that his charm had faded.

Damnation, his magic was too weak because of the magical exhaustion.

Victor backed away, until he was near the window. He looked down, at the five storey height, and prepared himself, non-verbally casting a cushioning charm, and prayed to Mother.

But before he could leap, the door swung open, to reveal a group of five.

Victor could feel his vision tunneling, Myrtle's laughter blurring in his ears, and the world swirling like ice-cream.

The leader of the group, a large girl with a vicious smile and a Gryffindor tie, stode forward, loudly saying, "So. This is where the Great Victor Nikiforov went to hide. Not so mighty now, are you? What happened? Did those friends you bought to fight for you go away? Now that they know the truth, Nikiforov?"

Victor, vision still tenuous, smirked lazily, "Don't bore me with your problems. I'm - in case you haven't noticed - very busy."

The sour look on the girl's face which had appeared at Victor's dismissal, suddenly disappeared, as quickly as it came, and she purred, "Oh. I know. Figures how a filthy Slytherin like you got to where you are. Probably slept your way up to the top, huh, Nikiforov. Slytherins never change. But now we know the truth, Veela Slut. We know. Now you can't hide."

Victor smiled harder, and silkily said, fear pumping through his heart, "Aw, don't tell me you spent your days thinking about me of all old people, Miss….uh, sorry, I don't think I know you name."

The girl's face hardened, and she strutted to the window, and placing her hands on either sides of Victor's face, in an ugly facsimile of a loving whisper, said, "Do you know, little Veela, that it is said that the person who cuts off a part of a Veela's hair gains control of the Veela? It's a high better than any serving of Felix Felicis. Do you reckon I should see if that particular myth is true?"

And then she touched Victor's hair.

Victor felt his heart still.

No.

It couldn't be.

His mothers would have told him.

Right?

Body frozen with panic, Victor spoke, "Well, I reckon it's the only way you Gryffindors can get anyone."

The face, so close to Victor's, hardened, and the hand that had been caressing Victor's hair, pulled, yanking Victor down by his hair like an animal on a leash.

Victor bit back a pained whimper as his head erupted with pinpricks of pain.

He could hear laughter through the haze of pain.

And through his fear, he felt anger. He was alone in a den of lions, and defenceless with magical exhaustion.

But he was Victor Fucking Nikiforov.

Fuck it, do it and worry about the consequences later.

Victor looked up slowly, and exhaled, pulling tendrils of tired, but eager magic forth.

The girl looked like someone had smacked her in the face with a brass plate.

It would only work for a second.

But, Victor thought as he threw himself back-first through the window to Myrtle's outraged screams, a second was all he had ever needed.


"Remember darling, you don't have to do everything alone…."


When he came to, he was lying on the grass, and he could feel the drumming of incoming footsteps through the earth.

He didn't have much time.

He struggled to get up, hands pushing against the Earth, as he urged his body to just work with him. After stumbling back on his arse a few time, he finally succeeded in getting up, and prepared himself and sent an apology to his magic.

He could hear rather than see the students.

They could be friend, they could be foe. It didn't matter, everyone Victor saw had to be treated as a foe. If Victor was to survive.

He had maybe seconds left.

Victor exhaled, and he was surrounded. He could see out of his peripheral vision, hands reaching towards his hair, wands being extended.

Victor prepared himself for the intrusion. He raised his arms towards the sky, and prepared himself to call forth his magic.

But not a single person on the ground nor casted spell touched him.

Victor felt rough hands grip his, in the air. And he felt a swoop in his stomach as he was without warning, lifted up to a broom. The people on the ground gasped at the sudden surprise, unable to do much more than stare blankly as their victim was hoisted up to safety, in a place they couldn't reach.

Victor for his part, felt strong arms grip his waist, as he was cradled close to a firm chest.

He was seated in someone's arms on a broom, fifty feet up.

Victor's thoughts were now nothing but question marks.

He struggled, unsure of the other rider's motives, only to feel heat spread through his head, as the other rider put their head up to Victor's and said, with a voice that had Victor's heart rate speeding up, but for different reasons, "I'm not going to hurt you, Victor. I'll keep you safe. I swear it. "

And it was not the oath, but the way the other boy's hands protectively tightened on Victor's waist that made him relax, and settle into the broom and the chest.

With muscles alight with energy, Victor closed his eyes in relief. He was safe.

Brown Eyes had promised him after all.